


amicitia

by Siria



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pepper and Natasha: together, they fight crime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	amicitia

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sheafrotherdon for betaing. Note: contains reference to attempted sexual assault.

Virginia Potts, MBA, CEO, may have been all steely contract negotiations and brittle smiles, but Pepper Potts had a sense of humour—even, Natasha knew, a rarely indulged streak of mischief. Nothing that would ever gain banner headlines in the tabloids, of course, but Natasha had acquired an appreciation in recent years for taking pleasure in things that had no prospect of adrenaline. So here the two of them sat, in the rooftop cocktail bar of a Soho hotel, wearing heels and bright sweeps of eye shadow at five on a Friday afternoon. Technically, Pepper had a meeting with R&D, and Natasha had an inbox full of reminders that she had a backlog of mission reports that needed to be filed in full by the end of the year. 

"But," as Pepper had said when they walked out of Avengers Tower, "it's almost Christmas, and this is _much_ more fun."

Natasha didn't quite know why, after the long period of wary truce which had followed Pepper finding out that Natalie Rushman was not who she claimed to be, Pepper had decided they should be friends. But she couldn't sense any ulterior motive behind Pepper's habitual wry forthrightness, and it was nice to occasionally spend time with someone whose conversation didn't entirely revolve around arrow fletchings or S.H.I.E.L.D. protocols. 

The bar was all soft, muted tones of rich brown and old gold; instrumental jazz played softly, just audible over the low hum of conversation. Natasha's drink—a martini with a healthy dash of lemon and Earl Grey tea—was all smoke and citrus on her tongue, and helped to round her vowels when she spoke. It had been Pepper's idea, that they give fake names to the men who flirted with them, and while Natasha had been a little dubious at first, it _was_ fun. Coming up with a persona that wasn't needed for infiltration, elaborating a back story without one eye always on a final goal: Lady Fiona Dashwood, she decided, was a little spoiled and quite giggly and thought that New York at Christmastime was _so_ much more interesting than her family's Kentish stately pile. Pepper had come over all Katharine Hepburn, calling herself Susan Vance and putting on the accent to match. Within two hours, Pepper had three phone numbers and a flush high on her cheekbones, and Natasha an invitation to spend New Year's in the Hamptons. 

They were just about to leave—Pepper had declared in favour of sushi, and Natasha had no objections—when Natasha noticed him. He was sitting across the bar from them: handsome in a bland sort of way, with a neatly trimmed goatee, just enough symmetrical silver at the temples to make Natasha suspect an expensive dye job, and a grey suit that was a little too shiny for good taste. He was hitting on a woman with a head of tumbling, dark curls who didn't look old enough to be in an American bar. Natasha would have rolled her eyes and moved on, if not for the fact that she saw him skilfully drop something into the woman's glass when her attention was distracted by a message on her phone. 

She leaned in to Pepper and smiled pleasantly and said, "Guy directly opposite us just drugged that woman's drink."

Pepper's eyebrows arched slightly, but she'd been dealing with Tony Stark and the world's media for a very long time, and she responded just as warmly, her gaze never flickering over towards the man. "We should call the police."

"In a moment," Natasha said, because out of the corner of her eye she could see the young woman excusing herself to go to the bathroom. "Work with me."

Natasha stood and, putting just enough syncopation into her walk to make it seem that the alcohol had affected her, led Pepper around to the other side of the bar. Pepper took the bar stool one one side of the man, Natasha the other; the look on his face was highly entertaining, all irritated pleasure at having two attractive women approach him at just that moment. 

"Hi there," Pepper said in forceful patrician tones, holding out a hand for him to shake. "I'm Susan. This is my friend, Fiona—well, _Lady_ Fiona I should say. Of the Kent Dashwoods, do you know them?"

While Pepper had him distracted, Natasha discreetly relieved him of his wallet. It was the matter of a few moments to memorise his identifying details, and then Natasha slipped the wallet back into the inside of his suit jacket before tapping the man on the shoulder. "Martin?"

He looked around at her, clearly confused. "Wait, how do you kn—"

Natasha let her smile turn unpleasant before she took his hand and pinned it against the bar, the wrist pressed against the edge with enough force that the fine bones there were just this side of shattering. 

"Hey!" the guy said, sucking in a startled breath, "Hey! What are you—that hurts, you crazy bitch, Christ, what the hell is wr—"

Pepper gestured for the bartender while Natasha kept Martin pinned. "I'm sorry to bother you," she said, wrapping a clean napkin around the tainted glass and pushing it out of Martin's reach, "but would you mind calling the police? This man has been drugging his date's drink."

The bartender hurried to obey, sending repeated awed, respectful glances over in their direction while punching 9-1-1 into the bar's landline phone. 

"Hey," Martin said. His forehead was beaded now with sweat. "Look, this is obviously some mistake, you've got me confused with—"

Natasha pressed a fraction harder, making him shut his mouth with a sharp click of teeth. "I know your name, Martin Greenwood. I know where you live and I know what you do for a living. When the police get here, you're going to confess to everything, and if I _ever_ hear about you trying to hurt a woman ever again," she said, leaning in and letting her tone turn conspiratorial, "I will gut you with the heels of one of Susan's shoes."

"Louboutins," Pepper said, mock mournful, "expensive and slow, but worth it."

Martin whimpered. 

They stayed long enough to see the uniforms arrive and cuff him, and then Natasha and Pepper collected their coats and scarves and headed for the elevator. Almost as soon as the doors closed, Pepper burst into a sudden, brief fit of giggles. "Sorry, sorry, that was awful," she said, covering her mouth with one hand, "just—adrenaline! I've never done anything like that before. Oh my god."

Natasha shrugged. "You handled yourself well."

Pepper shivered once, then wrapped her scarf more securely around her neck, and tossed back her red-gold curls. In a matter of seconds, she'd gone from looking slightly shocky to once more being the consummate Fortune 500 professional. "You got his Social Security Number, right?" she said as the elevator doors slid open. 

"Of course," Natasha said as they stepped out.

"Hrm," Pepper said, as she nodded at the concierge to signal for her town car. "How much damage do you think JARVIS could do with someone's name and Social Security Number, if he was properly motivated?"

Natasha smiled a little. "Lots?"

Pepper's answering grin was more than a little feral. "Do you want to forget the sushi?" she asked. "There's this little hole-in-the-wall dive not so far away that does great burgers."

"I knew we were friends for a reason," Natasha said solemnly, before linking arms with Pepper and walking with her out into the New York night.


End file.
